Chapter 207: Team Domination Begins, The Perfect Waist Moment!
"Man, did Chen Yan just level a fan?"
"The stretcher's out already! That dude's down bad!"
"Wait—bro, that's Daryl Morey! The Rockets' GM!"
"If this were Shaq, we'd be talking about a closed-casket funeral!"
"I swear, I'm never buying front-row seats again!"
"Hey, give Chen credit—he fights for every loose ball!"
Social media exploded seconds after Chen Yan's diving save. No one blamed him. Everyone knew he didn't have beef with Morey—it was just the cost of hustle.
After the brief chaos, the refs reset the game. The crowd settled. Both teams locked in again.
Through three quarters, Phoenix led 78–77. The pace was relentless, a blur of runs and counter-runs.
Tracy McGrady was putting on a clinic—31 points, 5 boards, 5 assists. It wasn't quite his 13-points-in-33-seconds era, but it was the closest he'd looked to vintage T-Mac in years.
Around him, Houston's role players were stepping up too. Brooks was quick and fearless, Bonzi Wells bullied mismatches in the post, and rookie Carl Landry brought a spark off the bench.
"Give Rick Adelman some credit," Reggie Miller said on the TNT broadcast. "He's pulling production out of guys nobody talked about in October."
Kevin Harlan added, "It's the anti-Van Gundy system. He's letting these young guns breathe."
For the Suns, Chen Yan remained the steady heartbeat—26 points, 8 assists, 8 rebounds already. Raja Bell, Boris Diaw, and Amar'e Stoudemire were all finding rhythm. Chen had shifted gears, orchestrating rather than isolating.
The man once known online as "Chen Never-Pass" now ran the floor like a conductor. Months under Steve Nash's mentorship had sharpened his vision. Combined with his [Passing Master] skill, his playmaking flowed naturally.
Still, he wasn't satisfied. Level 2 passing wasn't enough. His court vision was 85 and climbing—but in Chen's mind, 100 was the goal.
Then, as he toweled off during the break, something flickered behind his eyes.
System Notification — Team Chemistry +1 → 80.
A faint hum surrounded him, invisible to everyone else.
On a transparent overlay only he could see, a new icon pulsed golden.
[Team Skill Unlocked: Blitz Storm]
"Increase team sprint speed +5%, passing accuracy +5%, rim finishing +20%, fast-break shooting +10%. Duration 3 minutes. One use per game."
Chen's pupils dilated slightly. This was tailor-made for the Suns' run-and-gun DNA.
He clenched his fists under the towel. Three minutes of chaos—that's all they'd need.
---
The fourth quarter opened with Chen Yan and Nash resting. Amar'e Stoudemire and Diaw carried the second unit.
Across the court, Yao Ming took charge for Houston, with McGrady catching his breath on the bench.
The first possession set the tone. Yao caught the ball deep, backed Stoudemire down, and threw down a one-handed dunk.
The arena shook. Yao let out a rare roar—years of quiet restraint released in one primal yell.
Next play, he called for it again, muscled into the lane, and banked in a soft hook.
Stoudemire exhaled and looked at the bench. "Coach, you seeing this? He's locked in."
For the next few minutes, the Rockets rode Yao's dominance to an 86–81 lead.
D'Antoni waved both Nash and Chen Yan back in.
The Suns' five now read: Nash, Chen Yan, Azubuike, Diaw, and Stoudemire.
Houston countered with Alston, Luther Head, Wells, Scola, and Yao.
"Here we go," Harlan said. "The Suns bringing their big guns back. Let's see if the chemistry pays off."
And it did. Instantly.
The tempo changed. Ball movement sharpened. Screens clicked like clockwork.
Chen Yan faked a cut, then exploded baseline. Luther Head lost sight of him entirely.
"Backdoor! He's gone!" Miller yelled.
Nash knifed through the paint, drew Scola, and flipped the ball backward over his shoulder.
Chen Yan caught it mid-stride, rose through traffic—and met Yao Ming at the rim.
The seven-six tower spun and leaped, arms stretching like a steel gate.
But Chen Yan adjusted in mid-air, his core twisting with impossible balance. He glided under Yao's arm, switched to his left, and kissed the ball high off the glass.
"Unreal!" Harlan shouted as it dropped. "Chen Yan, bending gravity like it owes him money!"
The Suns' bench erupted.
86–83.
Slow-mo replays showed his body arching mid-flight—hips rotating perfectly around Yao's waist, the very definition of the "perfect waist moment."
"That's art," Reggie said, shaking his head. "You don't teach that. That's balance, timing, and a little bit of madness."
Chinese fans online went ballistic:
"Yao looks stunned!"
"That was too difficult—gravity had to file a complaint!"
"Chen Yan's swing is rounder than the full moon!"
Even neutral viewers admitted it: love him or hate him, the guy was must-watch TV.
[TL: Heads up, everyone!
No chapter update tomorrow, guys! My professor unlocked a new task for me: role play in front of the class.
So if I don't die from embarrassment on stage, I'll be back to posting chapters as usual. Thanks for your patience.
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